Once Upon A Masquerade
by Elisabeth Hill
Summary: Sarah lived a fairy tale, but it wasn't quite the fairy tale she'd intended. It's just possible that, had she gotten all of her wishes instead of just one, the story might have gone something like this. ABANDONED.
1. Prologue

They say that the Lady Irene, Duchess of Batons, was a rare beauty in her day. They say that she was a rose among thistles, a delicate and fragile flower that must be protected, for it could never be preserved. Many young gentlemen courted her, wanting to possess or protect that fleeting beauty. But what the young gentlemen courting her perhaps failed to notice was that she knew how fleeting her own beauty was. She knew by the age of seventeen that she couldn't always rely on her looks to get her ahead, and so, within the space of ten short years, the Lady Irene went from innocent young girl to calculating, power-hungry young woman.

She was most definitely a woman, in both body and mind, when she sought shelter with the Duke of Batons one rainy night and it's almost definite that she was calculating as well. Stories tells us that her hair was quite loose and dishevelled, although personal experiences tell that this was probably a one-off and the rain had likely loosened it from its customary beehive-of-sorts. It is said that she was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress. At any rate, the Duke of Batons, who was not much older than the Lady Irene (she was about thirty-three at that point, and had buried two husbands already), was by all accounts a bit of a soft touch and took her in. Probably he gave her a towel and, being that he was who he was, a warm, dry, sensible dress with two shoulders that would stay up.

The Duke's name was Robert. He was a very solid, dependable, kind-hearted and noble man, which meant that in a kingdom of Fair Folk, he had approximately the same life expectancy as a particularly gooey meringue on a sunny day in Hell. However, to widespread astonishment, he had done quite well for himself, gaining a lovely wife from the nobility, and a duchy and daughter in the process. Robert doted on his daughter, a rather skinny and silent dark-haired girl by the name of Sarah. It had been five years since the first Duchess of Batons had gone, according to some, wooed from her home and husband by a mortal man. Since then, Robert had been both parents to his daughter, who seemed none the worse for it. Still, he felt that Sarah was missing something by not having a feminine influence in her life.

It was hard to imagine a more peculiar match than the Lady Irene and the Duke of Batons, but each had something the other wanted – the Duke had the power that the Lady craved, and the Lady would provide female companionship and a firm, guiding hand for the Duke's daughter. All things considered, the marriage was more like a business transaction than anything else.

Sarah had only been six when her mother left them, too young to realise just how the parent she idolized had betrayed her. But now she was eleven, and old enough to see that, like fairy gold, the Lady Irene's beauty and kindness would wear off and leave nothing but a pile of junk.

She never once dreamed, however, that things would go the way they did.

It's been said, probably by the same people who said that the Lady Irene was once a great beauty (because there is, after all, an upper limit to the number of gossips a kingdom can contain, even if it is the same as the number of people in the kingdom), that once the Lady Irene had the duchy and had a son, she saw no further need of a husband. There are those who argue that had that been the case, the new Duchess of Batons would have had her inconvenient stepdaughter disposed of as well. To which the first gossips would usually reply, darkly: well, someone's got to take care of the baby.

At any rate, the Duke of Batons went out riding on the same day that Sarah turned fourteen; He did not return. The official story was that he had heard news of his first wife's whereabouts, and had set out to find her. You know very well what the gossips say though (although there were those who said that Robert got tired of Irene at about the same time as she lost her figure and face). At any rate, it wasn't questioned. This was, after all, the Underground. Political intrigue was practically a matter of rote.

The Lady Irene settled quite comfortably into her duchy, and set about bringing up her son (or, that is, instructing her stepdaughter to bring up her son) to be a spoilt little snot. Sarah did her best to keep the boy from this fate, but her actions were closely watched by her stepmother. This approach did not go over well with the servants, who left, one by one, leaving Sarah to pick up the slack. As she was only one person, and already busy with the duchess' and her son's constant demands, the household chores began to fall by the wayside and the duchy began to fall into ruin. With each new insult, Sarah withdrew into herself, waiting for the day when she would be free of her stepmother's tyranny and able to go on with her life. But not today. Not today. Not today...

And so passed a year.

* * *

AN: This is a collab I'm doing with my friend Chloe, whose deviantART page can be found here: http: // the- chloe. deviantart. com/ Just paste the link into the bar at the top of the page and remove the spaces. We decided we'd rewrite Labyrinth as Cinderella, or Cinderella as Labyrinth, however you want to say it. Just for the lulz. Hopefully it'll be good.

There's also a family portrait of the Underground version of the Williams family, which can be found here: http: // fictionalboyfriend. deviantart. com/ art/ Family- Portrait- 111330393


	2. Chapter 1

"I don't give a damn what you think!" The golden chalice flew across the room, its contents spilling on the floor as the glass shattered upon impact.  
The Goblin King was not amused.  
A citizen of the below city, a respected goblin called Gogle, stared up at his regent, cowering in fear.  
"But sir-" The man before him started to his feet, almost breaking one of the bones that held his throne together.  
"Get out," He growled, glaring at Gogle as the goblin tried to rush away, leaving spatters of mud wherever he stepped. When Gogle had left the room the man slumped back into the throne, letting out an exasperated sigh as he put his head in his hands.  
The clucking of a nearby chicken alerted the man to another presence and he pushed his head up to see a visitor, human this time.

It was the Duchess Irene who rudely interrupted him, and this was not the first time she had done so. The man glowered at her, unenthused by her arrival.  
"Your Grace," he greeted her, his voice steadier than before, "What brings you here?" The Duchess smiled, something that had once been attractive, made her now look like a banished witch, trying to regain the favour of her peers. But no matter how old Irene was, she kept the charm that had made her so popular.  
"Why Jareth, there is no need for such formality between us. I simply wish to discuss the subject of your heir with you." Jareth felt his blood run cold and he ran a hand through his uncombed blond hair several times before answering.

It was a touchy subject, that of Jareth's heir, as he still had not found a queen, or a boy he could adopt to rule. The boy would have to be noble, of course, and at least resemble a human. But with the clamour and distrust of the Underworld Court, it was likely he would insult by choosing someone to rule when he died. Many boys had been brought to court, and paraded in front of him, yet Jareth felt those shown would be nothing more than a puppet for their bloodthirsty, power-hungry parents.

Irene flashed a smile again, waiting for a response before continuing.  
"Jareth, I would like to know why you haven't considered my Toby to be the one who follows you onto the throne. He is much more suitable than the others you've seen." Jareth's mind was racing as he watched the Duchess carefully. She was crafty - almost as crafty as him - and he knew very little would stop her from putting her son on the throne. The only thing that would stop anyone from trying to put their son on the throne would be for him to marry, and he hated the idea of that.

Right on cue, Gogle burst back through the doors, stumbling a bit, as though he'd just been pushed. Seeing the angry glares of both the Goblin King and the Duchess of Batons focused on him like lasers, he immediately fell into a pre-emptive grovel. "Please, sire," he whimpered, before Jareth had a chance to speak, "the Lady Mizumi demands an audience. Um. And she won't take no for an answer."

"Well, she'll have to this time!" Jareth shouted at the hapless goblin at his feet.

"So you're choosing Toby," the duchess stated authoritatively, a smug smile creeping across her weathered face. Miserable old baggage, Jareth thought irritably.

"No, I am not."

"In that case, I suggest you at least pass the time of day with the Queen of Cups. She is, after all, the most eligible young lady in the Underground, sire. And it would be most advantageous to tie the Goblin Kingdom to that of Moraine, politically, you understand -" Gogle's voice sputtered and died at a gesture from the Goblin King. Irene opened her mouth to take advantage of the sudden silence, but she too was cut off by a wave from her sovereign.

"Eligible, hmm?"

Jareth collapsed back into the throne, a small smile playing across his lips. He knew that his visitors would shortly become uncomfortable if ignored, and so set about the difficult business of ignoring them. A germ of an idea had taken root in his hard-pressed brain, and he was eager to let it grow.

After what seemed like an eternity to his impatient audience, he said, "Mizumi will have her chance. You all will. Gogle, I want you to organize a ball for this Midsummer's Eve."

"But-but that's only three days away!" the goblin stammered.

"This Midsummer's Eve," Jareth repeated. "And everyone who wants a go at me is invited to attend. Might as well get all of this 'heir' business over with in one night."

"I can hardly have a party of such magnitude ready in only three -"

"See to it that you do. Because every unattached young lady and every doting mother in the Underground will be there, and if there's nothing for them to do but line up and bother me, I will personally dip you headfirst into the -"

'Bog of Eternal Stench, yes, I know, your majesty." Gogle sighed. "You do threaten me with it every other day."

"Really?" Jareth considered, for one brief moment, that perhaps it was time for a new threat, but then dismissed the idea until later. It could wait. "Well, I'll do something terrible to you, at any rate. At the end of this blighted ball, I will -" And here the arrogant and inscrutable Goblin King did something neither of his guests had ever seen him do: he hesitated. "I will choose a bride," he finished, the word "bride" sounding almost like a curse.

Irene's jaw dropped, her eyes blazing fury.

More to pacify her than out of any real hope, Jareth continued. "And if, at the end of the ball, I haven't made a choice, then I'll consider adoption."

"You'll choose my Toby as the heir?" The duchess' eyes still blazed, but now the fires were fuelled with greed, rather than anger.

"If I don't choose a queen instead."

"Your majesty, I really must protest. I simply can't organize a party like this in only three days. Where will we hold it? Who will be the musicians? What will the guests eat? Where will I find decorations?" Gogle clutched his head.

"That's your problem, Gogle. Now, get out of my sight before I find another cup to throw at you." Gogle bowed respectfully and began to walk out of the room, but Jareth called him back. "Oh, and Gogle?"

The goblin paused midstep and turned to face his regent. "Yes, sire?"

"Leave those damn Fireys off the guest list, will you?"

"Certainly, sire." Gogle scurried off again, obviously relieved to be out of the Goblin King's presence when he was in such a mercurial mood.

"I'll be there," Irene promised. "You know I can't resist a challenge."

"Nor can I." Jareth waved a hand. "You are dismissed."

As the Duchess of Batons left, Jareth allowed himself to relax for the first time all day, and even to congratulate himself for his quick thinking. He'd just bought himself three days blessedly free of heir-related interference. "I don't know why I didn't think of that sooner," he muttered, leaning back in his throne. More time to devote to music, magic, and whatever else he felt like doing – until, of course, that fool Gogle fouled up the party plans and came looking for help. Jareth sighed. It wasn't easy being the king of an unruly horde of goblins. He seriously wondered why so many people seemed to want the job.


	3. Chapter 2

As much as Irene would have liked to slam the door of her manor behind her, she knew better than to show any weakness in front of the servants. Calming herself, she smoothed down the fabric of her gown and carefully shut the door behind her. The manor was deserted, which was exactly how Irene liked it. She hated to detect any sign of life that wasn't hers or Toby's.

As if on cue, Toby stumbled into the room, a smile on his dirty face. Sarah was not far behind him, but she came to a halt as soon as she saw Irene. Smiling to herself, Irene ignored Sarah and proceeded to enfold Toby into her arms, almost flinging him into the air. Sarah scoffed at this, unmoved by the show of emotion. Finally, Irene acknowledged Sarah, a wicked idea springing into her mind.

"Sarah darling," she began, tone thick with fake adoration. "How has my Toby been today? He wasn't too much trouble, was he?"

The sceptical look on Sarah's face remained as she stared at Irene in disbelief. She's finally snapped, her mind crowed, she's finally been put in her place. But Sarah pushed these thoughts away and clasped her hands politely in front of her.

"Toby's been an angel," she lied. The boy had, of course, managed to distress his fair share of chickens today by pulling their tails. He had also managed to throw jam in her hair and decorate the kitchen with his breakfast. Sarah knew better than to say that though. "We were just going to take a walk through the marketplace and see if there were any new toys."

Irene nodded at this, a plan still unfolding in her mind.

"Sarah dear, why don't I take Toby out, and you go clean yourself up. There's someone I want you to meet." Sarah's manners left her completely and she stared at Irene in shock, flabbergasted.

"I-I..."

Irene smiled smoothly. "Good. Toby and I will see you later!" With a flippant wave Irene left the house again, this time taking Toby with her.

The marketplace was crowded with common goblins and, already, buzzing with news of the upcoming ball. Goblins gossiped like schoolgirls. Within a day, it was likely that the entire Labyrinth would know, including Irene's servants. Which meant that, one way or another, news was sure to reach Sarah's ears.

Toby tugged at his mother's skirt, and pointed towards an apple stall. Irene smiled at him and glided towards the stall, a path parting before her.

Sarah. What to do about the girl? Well, Irene could always put her forward at the ball. The downside to this, of course, was that Sarah had a mind of her own, and didn't trust her stepmother even as far as she could throw her. If Sarah were somehow to get into the Goblin King's good graces, if they were to marry, Irene would be completely unable to influence her stepdaughter. It would be exactly as bad as if any other girl had wormed her way onto the throne. No, Irene decided, it would be best if Sarah wasn't at the ball at all.

She paid the apple seller, and handed one of the brilliant red apples to Toby, who began to toss it up and down in the manner of the very young. Irene ignored him, and moved on, her mind elsewhere.

Now the question was how to keep Sarah away from the masquerade. The girl was, regrettably, a dreamer. If she heard anything about a royal ball to which she was technically invited, she'd stop at nothing to get there. Of course, Irene could forbid her to go, but they both knew that would achieve nothing. No, the Duchess would have to be wily. It was just a blessing that Sarah knew nothing of magic.

The toymaker's stall held all sorts of delights. The latest thing appeared to be spinning tops that took flight halfway through their spins.

"Elementary magic, and not a little woodcarving skill," the toymaker boasted.

"Very nice. Do they come down again?" Irene inquired.

"Usually," the toymaker admitted.

'What else have you got?"

There were soldiers that marched in formation and even hacked at each other in a badly-disciplined sort of way if they met up with another army. There was a large castle that folded into a cube roughly the size of the apple with which Toby was playing. There were dancing couples in fancy-dress, with different masks on either side of their heads. It all put Irene rather uncomfortably in mind of the ball. Three days! Three days in which to work it all out.

"Isn't there anything else?" she demanded. The toymaker gave her what he must have thought was a sly smile (he looked rather like he was about to be sick), and pulled, from under the table on which his wares were displayed, an elaborately carved wooden box.

"I knew my most discerning customer would want something more...distinguished." He winked, and opened the chest, lifting something out as though it were more precious than gold. "Observe, my lady."

It was a music box, of sorts. It was all glass, with delicate gold bars holding the panes in place. Inside, a lovely doll stood immobile, tiny porcelain face looking at the world through realistic, miniscule glass eyes, cherry lips permanently pouted. Its long, dark hair was drawn back in loose curls behind its head, and its little body was dressed in a sparkling white ballgown.

Irene's lips pursed. "Put it away." _It looks just like that wretched girl!_

"Ah, but you haven't seen what it can do," the toymaker wheedled. He lifted the music box, again handling it delicately, wound the key on the back, and placed it back on the table.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Then a tinny tune began to play, and the figure began to turn.

"Is that all?" Irene accused the toymaker.

"No. Just wait, please," he assured her.

Then the figure lifted its arms. Alone, in its cage of glass, it danced, long skirt flaring as it twirled jerkily. Then its tiny lips slid open, and it began to sing.

"_There's such a sad love..._"

Toby clapped his hands, dropping the apple. Irene ignored him. The toymaker slowly became aware that her glare was reserved for him and him alone.

He tugged awkwardly at his collar. "Er, a piece of cunning artifice such as this commands a price of -" he began, but the Duchess of Batons' glare was like an iron bar. "I'll just...put it away, shall I?" he whispered.

Irene nodded. The toymaker picked up the music box reverently, and packed it gently away, still singing, into the chest, which he then put under the table. "I'm afraid that's the extent of my stock," he apologised smoothly.

The terrifying quality drained slowly from Irene's face. She nodded again, and then pointed to one of the armies on the table. "I'll take two of those."

The toymaker nodded back and pulled out two rough-hewn wooden boxes, into which he began to pack the armies. "Be sure to store them separately," he warned the duchess, who gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"I shall be sure to remember." She pulled out her purse. "Now, how much do I owe you?"

As Irene and her son drifted away through the market, the toymaker glanced sadly at the box by his feet. He'd been counting on her to buy his music box. He'd put a lot of time, money, and magic into that little thing. Who, he wondered, would buy such an expensive and frivolous toy, if not the Duchess?

Almost without thinking, he found his gaze drawn to the castle looming overhead.


	4. Chapter 3

"What use have I for this silly trinket?"

The toymaker's whiskers drooped in disappointment. "It's very pretty, Your Majesty," he wheedled. "And it sings."

"Hm. Really." Unfortunately for the toymaker, the Goblin King didn't seem at all interested in his music box.

The toymaker nodded, not trusting his voice, and turned the key on the base of the music box. It shook so badly in his hands that he wondered if it, too, had a bad case of nerves. But after a few seconds, the dancer burst into song just as usual.

"_Falling / falling in love..._"

The Goblin King slowly turned to look at the toymaker for the first time. It was the most frightening thing the toymaker had ever seen, easily beating anything the Duchess of Batons could dole out. He swallowed past a sudden lump of terror in his throat and held out the music box for further inspection. His monarch's eyes narrowed, and the toymaker brushed a speck of imaginary dust from the roof of the music box.

"Is this meant to look like someone?"

"Erm, no, your majesty," the toymaker apologised. That was odd – both the duchess and the king appeared to think that the music box dancer was supposed to be someone. "It's just a rather pretty doll, don't you think?"

The toymaker worried that said doll would spontaneously combust from the force of the Goblin King's scrutiny. "It looks just like her. Except for the eyes. Her eyes were blue."

"Erm, whose eyes, Your Majesty?"

For a brief moment, the Goblin King looked far away, almost contemplative. Then he abruptly returned to the present. "No one. Just a girl." He sniffed boredly. "Now, get out of my sight, or face a very smelly eternity."

The toymaker bowed and scuttled backwards out of the throne room. It was only when he was out of the palace doors that he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

Jareth sat in complete silence for a long while after the toymaker left; so long, in fact, that the two attendant goblins, who he'd let into the room on the condition that they shut up so he could hear himself think, began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. So the smaller of the two was understandably startled when the Goblin King reached out and grabbed him by the ear.

"Wh-what does Your Majesty wish?" he stuttered.

"What happened to her, do you know? The Duke of Batons' daughter?"

The attendant had only the slightest idea of whom his ruler was speaking, and even less idea of why it had come up. But he did his best. "The one who works as a nanny for her stepmother?"

"No, that can't be right. Who do you mean?"

"S...s..." The attendant wracked his brains for the name. "Sierra? No, Sarah. I'm sure that was her name. Sarah. Very tragic, her mother ran away nine years ago to chase some pitiful mortal and her stepmother's lorded it over her ever since."

"The Duke of Batons' daughter..." The grip on the attendant's ear relaxed as the Goblin King mused. "Her stepmother wouldn't be the Duchess Irene?"

"The very same one, sire."

* * *

The toymaker adjusted his hat as he finally returned to his stall. The music box was too precious to just let anyone buy, which was why he asked so much for it, but none of the people able to afford it had wanted it at all. He regarded the music box once more before wrapping it in a rag. It would never be sold now, not after both the Duchess of Batons and the Goblin King had turned it down.

The toymaker looked around, watching the goblins squabble in the street. He would hate for any of them to get their hands on the box, but inside knew there was no other choice.

Slowly, he turned to an abandoned alley and placed the box in a pile of rags. Someone would pick it up at some point if it was there.

The toymaker turned back to his stall, telling himself once more that there would be no point in keeping an unsellable item.

As day turned to dusk a small figure darted through the alley. He paused at the pile of rags, hazel eyes lighting as he uncovered the music box. He examined the figure and smiled, amazed.

"Perfect."

* * *

Sarah sighed as she sat down by the fire in the kitchen. Irene had returned a little while ago, sending Toby up to his room to sleep. She had taken no note of Sarah, and gone to the study for some reason. Sarah had begun to relax and was understandably surprised when a boy stepped through the door.

"There you are!" He exclaimed, moving over to sit by her. "I've been looking everywhere." Sarah smiled, moving to a more comfortable position.

"Lance, where have you been? Cook's been in a right state looking for you." Lance ducked his head, fishing something out of his pockets. He ran a hand through his muddy brown hair before handing Sarah the bundle.

Sarah gasped as she unfolded the rags, staring at the music box.

"Lance, I-" He grinned in response as Sarah continued. "How could you afford this?"

"The toymaker had thrown it away. He obviously didn't want any goblins to get it, so, I grabbed it for you."

Sarah stared in awe. "She looks like me," she noted, winding the key and listening to the song.

"Yeah, I noticed that too."

Sarah turned to him, smiling, and threw an arm around his neck. "Oh, thank you!"

Lance smiled, hugging her back. "You deserve it."

They broke apart as they heard footsteps approaching the door and Sarah hastily covered the box with rags again. Irene burst in, eyeing Lance uneasily before storming to Sarah.

"Toby's been crying for fifteen minutes and you have not yet gone to see what is the matter." She spat, grabbing Sarah and dragging her upright. Lance jumped to his feet, outrage obvious on his face.

"You can't keep forcing Sarah to do what you're too cold to do!" Irene dropped Sarah and turned to Lance, glaring at him.

"This is my house young man, and I shall do whatever I want, including getting rid of you." Lance took a step back, reality crashing in.

Sarah stepped in between them, clutching the bundle of rags to her body.

"There's really no need for that, I'll go check on Toby now." She left the room, trying to keep Irene from noticing the bundle. For once, things went her way.

* * *

AN: OHMIGOD.

It's been so freakin' long since we last updated, I won't blame you for being mad at me. First Chloe and I had to try to coordinate our efforts instead of randomly shooting inspirations all over the place, then I had to do everything that taking a trip overseas entails. But now I'm back, we have our plot hammered out, and hopefully there won't be this epic of a delay on the next chapter!

I hope you guys like Lance. (We thought we were clever.)


	5. Chapter 4

Sarah sighed resignedly as she trudged up the stairs, clutching the bundle of rags in which she'd concealed the music box. She supposed she was lucky that Irene hadn't noticed the box, but she was sick of being ordered around nonetheless. She was used to her stepmother's cruel and callous treatment by now, but really, she hadn't done anything to deserve it. It wasn't fair.

Toby chose that moment to let out a loud wail, pulling Sarah back to reality. She sighed again and hastened her pace. For now, she'd put up with it, keep it down, take the music box as a small victory. Who knew? Maybe it meant things were starting to turn in her favour. Although, Sarah reflected as Toby screeched, that was a little hard to believe.

* * *

Lance jumped as a loud knock resounded through the house. He hurried to open the front door and was startled to see a goblin standing there. The goblin started to speak, and it was obvious he'd tried his best to rehearse the speech.

"Ladies and gentlegoblins, I am here to deliver informations to His Nibs'- uh, His Majesty the Goblin King's royal ball."

Lance blinked, confused. "Uh -"

"Is this the residence of the Duchess of Batons?" The goblin continued, interrupting.

"Yes, but -" Lance was cut off again. Another goblin had arrived, and began to berate the first.

"Did you give them the invitations yet?"

The first goblin laughed. "No, I haven't given him the informations yet."

"His Nibs said 'invitations'."

"No, His Nibs specifically said they was informations."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Are you calling His Nibs a liar?"

"No, I'm calling you a liar."

"You insult me!"

Lance looked from one goblin to the other, growing more bewildered with every sentence. Both goblins were dressed rather smartly in the royal colours, which meant that they'd come from the palace. But even a uniform couldn't hide the fact that they were, after all, goblins through and through, which this pointless fight seemed only to be proving.

"I'll tell you what you can do with your 'informations' and your -"

"You just wait until we get back to the castle. His Nibs will have you dipped in the bog for calling him a liar!"

"We've been _through_ this. I'm not calling His Nibs a liar!"

The first goblin paused, a look of dawning comprehension disfiguring his already none-too-lovely face. "That's right, you was calling _me_ a liar!"

"No, I'm calling you a bloody idiot!"

Lance shook his head.

* * *

Toby was screaming loud enough to wake the dead when Sarah walked into his and his mother's bedroom. "Oh, stop it," she told him, knowing that it would have no effect. When Toby decided he was going to put up a fuss, it took nothing short of hours to make him calm down again. "You're not a baby anymore, and it's not my fault that you still act like one, so why do you have to punish me for it?"

Setting the music box , still securely concealed in its wrappings, down on the bed, Sarah strode over to the crib and scooped Toby out of it, rocking him gently and gritting her teeth against the most piercing of his wails. "Oh, please stop," she begged him. She'd have to hide the music box somewhere in her room soon, or Irene might walk in and find it. The sooner she could get Toby to stop screaming, the sooner she could get the music box to her room. "What do you want, huh? A story? A song? Are you hungry, Toby?"

Toby just took a deep breath and let it out in one long siren howl.

"Did you just want someone to pay attention to you, huh?" Sarah asked, switching her grip on her half-brother so that he rested against her hip, supported by one arm. She bounced him gently, debating whether or not she could get away with carrying him all the way into her attic bedroom. Better not to, she finally decided.

She hadn't been expecting an answer to her query, and so was very surprised when Toby, tearfully, nodded his head.

"Don't we all," Sarah sighed. Walking over to the bed, she set her little brother down and flopped down beside him. "Well, I'm here now, so will you stop squalling? Please? For me?"

Toby shook his head and burst into a fury of fresh screams.

Somewhere inside Sarah, something went _pop_. This was her life from now on? She hadn't even meant for it to go on this long! And both Toby and Irene were so ungrateful, even though Sarah did everything they asked and more. She couldn't take any more of this, really she couldn't!

Squeezing her hands over her ears to block out Toby's ear-splitting wails, Sarah shouted at the listening walls, at the empty air, at the universe in general. "Somebody, please, save me! Somebody take me away from this awful place!"

Outside, the sun slipped silently under the cover of a protective cloud. The room darkened as quickly as Sarah's mood had. Taking a deep breath and resisting an urge to beat against the walls, the windows, the bedposts with clenched fists, Sarah picked Toby back up and lowered him, protesting loudly, back into the crib. But then she stopped. Just as it wasn't fair that she had to suffer for Irene's every whim, it wasn't fair that Toby should suffer for Sarah's bad mood. None of this was his fault. He was just a child.

Leaning down, Sarah placed a kiss on her little brother's forehead. Toby abruptly stopped shrieking, possibly from shock. Sarah _never_ did that.

Seizing the moment, she tiptoed across to the bed, grabbed the music box in its cocoon, and hurried to the door, slipping it open as quietly as she could. Just before she left the room, though, Sarah stopped and looked back at her little brother. Still no screams.

Shaking her head at the apparent miracle that had taken place, Sarah stepped out and swung the door closed behind her. As she hurried towards her bedroom, however, she was stopped dead in her tracks by the sound of angry voices.

_That's not Irene,_ Sarah thought worriedly. _Or Cook. Or Lance. But we never get visitors. Who could it be?_

Still moving as quietly as she could, Sarah snuck over to the top of the stairs and looked down towards the open front door, not wanting to miss anything.

* * *

Irene chose that moment to come to the door.

"What is going on here?" she asked tersely. The goblins continued to argue.

'That'll teach you to call me an idiot!" The goblins had launched themselves at each other as Irene and Lance watched in complete shock. Irene, as usual, came to her senses first.

"Just give me the damn invitations," she said coldly, glad for once that Toby'd been upset. Sarah would still be upstairs trying to calm him. She needn't have any idea there was a ball taking place at all.

The goblins froze, looking quite comical. Triumphant, the second goblin cackled, "See, I _told_ you they was invitations!"

The other goblin grumbled something obscene and pulled from a delivery satchel an engraved white card, complete with gold embossing, holding it out to Irene. She looked it over with an expression that was less that delighted, and then nodded.

"Hmm. Thank you, I suppose," she said curtly, and shut the door on the goblins, who abruptly began to scuffle again.

* * *

Sarah waited until Irene had swept into the parlour before ducking into her room and placing the music box on her vanity, pausing to admire the way it looked before the little white-framed mirror. Sarah counted herself lucky that Irene preferred the heavy, expensive mahogany furniture that Sarah's father and mother had received as a wedding gift. The vanity had been Sarah's mother's before she'd met Robert. Irene, on seeing it, had consigned it to the attic, forgetting that she'd done the same to Sarah herself. Sarah had decided to take this to mean she could have the vanity.

Once she was satisfied with the position of the music box, she rushed back out, knowing that things would go badly for her if she were missing for too long. Rushing down the stairs, she looked about for Lance, determined to find out what all the fuss had been about.

She found him in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes while the cook dried. As Sarah entered the room, the cook started, then relaxed. "Oh, it's only you. Well, you can do this job," she ordered Sarah impatiently. "I haven't time for this. There's roasts that need preparing, jam that needs making, loaves that need baking…" The cook continued her litany as she bustled off to whatever she was planning, leaving Lance and Sarah alone.

Grabbing a towel and a wet plate, Sarah asked, "What did those goblins at the door want?"

Lance shrugged, then buried his arms to the elbows in the sudsy water. "I don't really know. Something about invitations or something. Irene took the invitations before I could find out what they were for, though."

"Hmm," Sarah muttered, setting the dry plate aside. She'd have to talk to her stepmother.

* * *

AN: OHGODIT'SBEENALONGTIME.

Insert the most sincere, longest apology you can imagine here, because I really can't apologise enough or thank you enough for sticking around, encouraging us, and leaving little comments telling us to get our butts in gear. It's been a long summer, long enough for a lot to happen and for both me and Chloe to get a little...shall we say distracted? Hopefully things will be back on track now, as I'm discovering I work well under pressure and she's discovering that it's nigh impossible for us to keep in constant enough contact to keep this up when we're not in school together. Hopefully we can finish the story before I graduate...

Thank you again a million times over for putting up with us.


End file.
